


I Won’t Even Wish For Snow

by SophiaCatherine



Series: Coldwave Winter Week 2018 [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Brief hints of Lewis Snart’s A+ parenting, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/pseuds/SophiaCatherine
Summary: Len was all fluid, graceful movement, lobbing one snowball after another. He was laughing—more than Mick had seen him laugh in years. It was kind of beautiful.Just a fluffy snowball fight and some relaxing in front of the fire for Domestic day of CWWW.





	I Won’t Even Wish For Snow

**Author's Note:**

> For Coldwave Winter Week 2018. Day 6: Domestic. (Ah, my favourite.) Extra: snowball fight.

Len wouldn’t talk about it, but it was something to do with Lewis. It always was.

“Why do you still have anything to do with him?” Mick had asked once, getting sick of this shit.

Len had gone tight-lipped for a minute, spinning his pocket knife in one hand. Then he’d clicked it shut and muttered, “Lisa.” And that was the end of the conversation. Permanently, apparently.

Arms folded, Mick leaned against his kitchen cabinet in his tiny apartment and watched Len standing at the window, staring out at the snow as it settled lightly on the ground below.

Mick coughed. “Weren’t we gonna grill some steaks and watch the game?” he tried.

Len’s lips twitched in a surprise of a smile. “It’s snowing, Mick.”

“Fire escape’s covered.”

His partner turned to give him one of his patented _looks_. “You wanna burn down the whole apartment building?”

He laughed under his breath. “C’mon, you know I’m better with fire than that.”

That did it. Len pushed off the window, leaning against an adjacent cabinet and narrowing his eyes. “You sure about that?”

“Yup.” He held up a steady hand, no telltale pyro tremor at all, for Len to see. “Promise not to let it get out of control. Scout’s honour.”

Len squinted suspicious eyes. “You were _not_ a Boy Scout.”

“I could have been a Boy Scout.”

Snorting, Len shrugged and headed for the fire escape, Mick close behind him.

The lock on the door to that thing was almost rusted shut. He reached for the key in the lock, covering Len’s hand with his own. “I got it. There’s a knack.”

Len pulled away, but he was wearing that beguiling half smile of his when he stepped back to let Mick open the door.

The January wind was chill against Mick’s face as soon as he stepped out. “Shit. It’s gotta be 25 degrees out here.” In answer, his long coat was thrown across his shoulders. Mick pulled it on properly and looked up to grin in thanks, catching sight of the asshole in his light jacket. “You’re just in your element, ain’t you?”

“Yup.” Len leaned with his back against the railings, turning his head to look down into the alley, where the snow was piling up faster now. He nodded at the grill. “Really think that’s gonna catch in this weather?”

Mick had his head in his little outdoor storage unit, already pulling out charcoal bricks. “Should do. I’ve grilled in worse.”

There was quiet for a minute while he worked, but he glanced up to see Len’s eyes glazing over again as he turned back around to stare down at the alley.

“That snow must be awful interesting,” Mick said, risking one of a range of possible responses ranging from snarky to pissed off. He lit a match. Len was silent, so Mick snuck an awed look at the sputtering flame, a tiny spark of fire winning out against all the cold in the world. He reached down and touched it to the edge of a charcoal brick, and the whole pile went up in a little whoosh of flame and heat. “Ahh,” he breathed appreciatively.

Even that didn’t get Len’s attention. Not so much as a _Mick_ for his trouble.

Mick sighed, poking at the fire. “You need anything?” he asked, after a minute more silence weighed on him.

Len shook his head, the movement so slight that Mick almost missed it. At least that was a reaction.

“You know you can move in here whenever you want, right?” He had to say it. It was becoming a tradition. Len would ignore him, and the status would quo its merry way onwards.

Instead, very quietly, Len said, “I might.”

Mick almost dropped his barbecue fork. “Really?”

“I said ‘might,’” he growled, turning his head just long enough to give him a warning look.

Mick huffed a laugh. “Got it. Hey, grab me the steaks off the counter, would you?”

Len rolled his eyes, but he went.

 

They ate in near-silence, swinging their legs over the edge of the fire escape. After an hour, Mick had had enough of this shit, not least because he was cold and damp. He dragged himself up, an arm wrapped around the railing. “Come on.”

Len looked up, eyebrows raised. “...Where?”

“The alley,” Mick said, opening the door with no further explanation. He got a stare in reply, and just held the fire escape door open. “You’re letting the cold in,” he added. Len sighed and got up. “Thank you,” Mick couldn’t resist adding sardonically, getting more rolled eyes in reply.

“All right,” Len said, when they got downstairs and outside again. He’d found a parka from somewhere. Mick was suppressing a giggle at it. “So, what’s this about?”

Mick grinned. “Stay right there,” he ordered, raising a finger in warning. Len quirked a single eyebrow, but nodded.

Mick backed a little way away down the alley. “Keep staying there,” he called over.

Len raised his eyes to the gray sky, getting a dusting of falling snow on his face and having to wipe it off in a very undignified way.

Mick was still backing away. “And now close your eyes.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, _Mick—_ ”

“Just do it, all right?”

Len was many things. A thief. A bit of a klepto to match Mick’s pyro. The best crew boss Mick had ever worked with. A much better big brother than he thought he was. But, right then, watching Len standing in a snowy alley with his eyes closed, as per orders, Mick was reminded that Len was… Mick’s. Whatever label they put on it, or mostly didn’t, Len was the control freak who trusted Mick with his life.

And right now, that was laughably dumb of him, given the snowball that was spinning towards him.

It smacked into Len on the side of his head. “Ooh, too wide,” Mick said sadly, leaning down to form another.

Len opened his eyes. Much more slowly than Mick would have expected. “I,” he said, even more slowly, “am going to kill you.”

Mick should have predicted that, as soon he got off the back foot, Len would be really, _really_ good at snowball fights.

Much later, in a now-dark alley, a sopping wet, freezing cold Mick was still being pelted by a Len who had no more damage than a few wet patches on his unfairly snug-looking parka.

Len was all fluid, graceful movement, lobbing one snowball after another. He was _laughing—_ more than Mick had seen him laugh in years. It was kind of beautiful.

“I yield! I’m done!” Mick said between gasps of laughter, as Len advanced on him where he lay on the ground in the snow.

Len looked at the huge snowball he was holding between two hands. “Aww. Well, that’s no fun. Now what am I gonna do with this?”

Mick turned his head to nod towards the second floor fire escape, where Mrs. Rifkin’s two kids were practically hanging over the railings. “Hey, kids,” he yelled up. “Whoever gets down here first gets this prize beauty to start their fight with.”

Len grinned at the thundering footsteps, then turned back to Mick, putting down the snowball and offering him his hand.

“I think you killed me,” Mick groaned, allowing his partner to help him up. “My fucking _underwear_ is damp.”

“Can think of a few things we can do about that,” Len said with a wink, slinging Mick’s arm over his shoulder and more or less carrying him indoors.

"We should fight fire with fire next time," Mick grumbled.

“Right, like I’m gonna let you get into a literal fire fight.”

“Shut up.”

 

They managed to get a fire going in the ancient wood-burning stove in Mick’s apartment. It had been the reason he rented it, but he’d mostly been too nervous to use it.

“Ain’t you going to lecture me about fire safety?” he asked, poking doubtfully at it, as it sputtered and finally caught.

“Can’t be bothered,” Len yawned, lounging on the tiny sofa. Mick squeezed himself in next to him, slinging his legs across him. Len dutifully began rubbing them. “Lose the pants,” Len said.

Mick smirked at him and got up. He winced a little as heavy denim scraped recent burns from a fire he’d let run out of control. A wave of shame crashed over him, and he glanced at the stove, bright and roaring.

And then his eyes drifted over to Len. He was smiling at him, trusting as ever. Mick laid back down, and Len went back to his task, his hands blissfully warm.

“That’s better. You’re freezing.”

Mick grinned. “I could handle a hot cocoa in a minute.”

Len raised an amused eyebrow. “Got the usual?”

“Yup.”

The crackling of the fire was all he heard for a little while, a soft blanket of warmth wrapping around him. Len’s hands, calloused from guns and fights, were oddly gentle.

Eyes fixed on Mick’s legs, Len said, “Thanks.” Quietly, like he wouldn’t say that to just anyone.

Mick didn’t reply. He leaned over to kiss Len, his tongue teasing his partner’s mouth open. It was too gentle for them, more used to desperate grasping on adrenaline-fuelled nights. They weren’t about sweet kisses in front of the fire. But he could feel Len’s slowly dissipating anxiety in response to his every touch, and Mick took it slowly, mindfully.

“This don’t seem fair,” he said, when they pulled away for air. “I’m pantless and you’re not.”

Len gave another of those sincere laughs that Mick would give his last score to hear more often, and complied with the suggestion.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Thette for the beta!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/), [dreamwidth](https://sophia-catherine.dreamwidth.org/), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/SophiaInSpace) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/SophiaCatherin5).


End file.
